


No Problem!

by nothing_happens_to_me



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:53:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8763055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_happens_to_me/pseuds/nothing_happens_to_me
Summary: Hello!And sorry in advance!I try to translate a little story I am still writing in German.http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/5841cb83000277132d9376d9/1/Ein-Klacks-You all have seen https://youtu.be/WGMSO3KkXDQ BBC released 30.11. 16? It is so dark and devastating - we had to make some jokes on twitter: Paula Dorepa https://twitter.com/Paula_Dorepa made a manip referring to Jaws, I suggested to make one with a yellow rubber duck and so on.Then Friday evening I had another little idea, but had to write it in German. –My English isn't good enough, so there will be parts I just try to describe what happensSuggestions for improvement are highly welcome.(5 or maybe 6 chapters I presume.)  This is no meta and we don't think that picture is even a real scene (maybe mindpalace like the explosion in TEH - or more likely just a metaphor for the whole series 4.They sit there inspite the water is coming - look at the line of John's soaked jeans - as if he didn't move! John seems to be in shock, staring at a completely resigned Sherlock.The electricity still works, the water isn't dirty at all, some furniture is missing...!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Paula! Hi, everybody!
> 
> So the last chapter in German isn't finished by now. I wrote it from SH's POV as you will see (and in present tense) and I tried to translate first but didn't succeed. Then I tried to rewrite or rephrase it - it's not the original style and I’m really not happy with the result of the second and third chapter – and the following will be even more difficult. And it would take me too much time either to try harder. And POV is even worse for a summary, I guess.
> 
>  
> 
> No problem!
> 
> (Ein Klacks!  
> Hehe, that's the first big issue to translate... "cinch", "child's play", "walk over", "piece of cake"?  
> What I mean is, something one would expect to be very, very easy to do and that will certainly take little brain, capacity and time effort…)

 

 

  
Drip…drip…drip…  
  
This has driven John almost mad last night for hours.  
Then he went upstairs.   
But only for a moment.  
Because...

Well…

I burnt his bed recently.  
It was for a case of course! A murderer put an arson on to extinct all evidence of the murder he committed.  
What else?!

  
Well, you see: The measures of that bedroom and the materials where almost perfect to simulate what had happened!  
And at that time even I couldn’t anticipate that John...  
well – let's say, that he would come again to...to stay with me...or just stay at Mrs Hudson's place until...whatever...  
So, imagine: I burnt a 140 pound pig in there. I assure you it's a really breath-taking stink!  
And at least there isn't even a bed anymore.

  
Anyway of course I took precautions to control the fire, I told Mrs Hudson I was going to experiment and would pay for every kind of damage I might cause. And I even showed her the income I earned with the last "big" (but very boring!) case.

  
In spite of that she was furious when I had finished that test.  


  
If I only had noticed last night, the tub was dripping!  
Of only John had torn me out of my mindpalace!  
  
But no! He's just lying on the sofa wide awake because of the damn dripping kitchen tub!  
Half night!  
Later on he slept a few hours in that old chair beside the stairs on the ground floor.  
Hope he didn't catch a cold.  
  
The craftsmen will be here on Monday and of course I will offer John to take my bedroom for the next time. When I'm in my mindpalace I don't hear such little unalarming noises like dripping water and I really like the sofa...   
But John will refuse, won't he?  
No, no, no! That can't happen!   
After all this time he is here again...! What can I do to make him stay?!  
  
First of all: I'll fix the sink tub of course!   
  
Where did I put that toolbox I needed for that boring case with the plumber-killer last year...?  
Oh, yes beneath the sink! Funny coincidence.  
  
It's quite easy.   
You have to close the shutoff valve... (He describes what to do...)   
  
...the valve is behind boxes with test tubes, conical flasks and so on…  
I'll just shut the main water supply...!  
No problem.  
Even Anderson could manage!

  
I few minutes later my mobile rings...  
  
Lestrade! Oh, finally!  
I have been longing for a case so much!  
  
“Yes! Yes of course I read about that killings! There has been another one. What's different this time...?”  
  
I discuss the evidence, tell him about my deductions while still working on the tub – but he can't answer all my questions (because they don’t observe!) and doesn't understand everything I try to explain to him.  
No matter! I've fixed the tub by now and I tell him, I'd be off to join him at the crime scene.

  
The game is on!

  
While I was still talking to Lestrade on the phone I switched the main water supply on again and left.


	2. Chapter 2

_(A remark of the cabbie tears SH out of his thoughts. Lots of people are standing in front of the Speedy's Café. SH sees immediately what must have happened._  
 _17 persons haven't put their coats on again or haven't closed them already ore missed the right button holes or something - they left in a hurry, were upset or distracted, maybe both. Eight have taken their drinks outside with them in cans, three grabbed their sandwiches they had started to eat. All of them had been sitting in the café until a few seconds - then fled but keep close. No danger._  
 _There is also Mr Chatterjee with one of his co-workers, beside them two large catering boxes and a heap of pictures they must have torn from the walls in a hurry. Curiously Mrs Turners "boys" have come to see what happened. Two other guys leave the café with more catering boxes. And Marie Turner is trying to comfort a very upset Mrs Hudson. And there are five persons more - two living somewhere next door, not dressed warm enough - and two passersby._  
 _In total 28._  
  
_Again the cabbie asks for his fee and wants him to leave. SH obeys, shaking and numb he climbs out of the cab. Mrs Hudson is shouting at him, angry and nearly crying. Marie Turner looks very furious at him and wants to call the LFB. SH tries to stop her. When he hurries towards the front door Mrs H. tells him, that he can't enter the flat, because he couldn't open the doors upstairs._

 _He says he hasn't to and will pay for the glass of the floor window too._  
 _(There is a window on the first landing between the stair house and the living room)_  
  
_SH hurries upstairs, kicks in the window and steps into the living room - and is more than one foot deep into ice cold water._

  
 _It has already been obvious to him what must have happened but now he is quite in shock._  


_There is only a creepy silence... (The water is still. Mrs Hudson must have cut the water supply for the whole building already._  
 _SH remembers that she got her fireplace in the ground floor closed years ago and recently she had sealed all the doors between the staircase and the flats to low the heating bill from this winter on. The last weeks she almost didn't stop preaching, he should keep that doors close during the winter._  
 _Well! that's the result...!_  
 _The water couldn't have done so much damage, if it had poured downstairs and then maybe would have been noticed much earlier...!_  
  
_SH is so devastated, he just walks over to his chair and sits down.)_  


  
What have I done...?!  
(...)  
I ruined everything...  
My home, Mrs Hudson’s house...I've hurt John more than once...  
...and now even if he wanted to, he can't come back!  
(...)  


  
"...Geez...", SH hears John's voice from the other side of the room. "Sherlock...! How could - ? - are you okay...?" he asks stammering.  
"Careful! The shards!" SH hears himself cry out. He didn't even notice earlier but there must be some quite sharp ones left over in the frame.

  
John steps him...stands still...  
(...) SH thinks that this is too horrible for him to find words for. (...) SH himself is unable to react.  
But then John approaches him and sits down in his chair  
That should be a surprise for SH - but he's completely lethargic.  
(if I got the English expression right I would say: "He is all at sea"  - what a nice wordplay!)  
He doesn't dare to look at John.)  
  
John doesn't utter a word.  
He hasn't to.  
  
I destroyed everything.  
  
  
  
...and just like the water before a silence of despair spreads in the flat...

 

 

 

 

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

John clears his throat.

"What...what was it this time, Sherlock...?  
And why now...? ...of all times!  
Look at me.  
Are you clear again? What did you take?"  
  
TAKE…?!

  
"What?! No!" I cry out appalled, "I am clean!" I add in a lower voice but more firmly.  
"…then...  
What happened...?  
Don't tell me that's FOR A CASE TOO?!" he yells.

  
A crescendo from pianissimo to a forte and then suddenly fortissimo.  
Impressing dynamic, John...

"No..!" I groan helpless. "I just... I was... distracted...  
I...failed to concentrate on...  
it was a case... there was a phone call...then I went to the crime scene…"

I fall silent. I can't say it.

It's too embarrassing.  
And horrible.  
And useless by now!  
  
John will rise and walk away. He will never talk to me again!  
  
Please, John! Could you please even shout at me?!  
  
But then there is a heavy, bitter sigh:  
"Sherlock Holmes! The toolman*!"  
And then he laughs.  
  
"W-what?!"  
  
_(John apologizes for laughing and is relieved that SH just had been scatty._  
_Sherlock is really surprised that John isn't angry at him - and is very relieved too_  
_John is astonished that SH owns a toolbox - the one John had bought years ago he took along with him when he moved out after Sherlock’s suicide._

_But then he understands: Of course SH needed one for a case, for a disguise!_

_John says, if he had known, he would have fixed the tub himself last night._  
_...)_  
  
Sherlock groans: "If you only had said something!"  
  
John shrugs regretful. "Poor Mrs Hudson...! She has cleaned the flat thoroughly this morning. Though her hip must have been quite well."  
  
_(But John had been away since 5 a.m. because he had the early shift!_

_This takes SH by surprise and cheers him up a bit.)_

"Good observation, John!"  
  
"Really? Wasn't that difficult...

 _(Of course she made Sherlock help her to put the desk upside down onto the kitchen table and carry the coffee table and the chairs into the staircase...)_  
  
"I meant: For your abilities, John..." I finally start to grin. (What's silly enough because the damage didn't improve!)

  
"Shit...! It's so cold...!" John chuckles. "Won't you even rescue your poor violin from drowning? The bow already sank, uhm?"  
"Don't know, I think I was playing pizzicato last time...might be somewhere in the kitchen..."  
  
_(... John suggests to take some buckets so they can throw some water into the loo or to leave bc of the cold water and their wet feet and change clothes and shoes._  
_SH makes a joke, asking if the doctor isn't a proponent of Kneipp cure treatment. Then he is afraid that he might have gone too far. But John is alright with that remark but explains how real water treading has to be done and that they might rather catch a pneumonia instead by sitting there._  
_SH corrects: "Or more precisely: two!"_

_(But then again he worries, that might have been too cheeky so he tries to be social and asks John sympatheticallyJ_

 

"And what was your day like?"  
  
John giggles: "Busy – but also boring. But thanks for asking."  
  
"Then maybe you should consider a job change..."  
  
"Yes, perhaps I really should...  
  
Oh, my god! Sherlock, put your feet up! Hurry!" he gasps suddenly and tears his feet out of the water, placing them onto his chair.  
  
I obey blankly. "Why – ? – Oh...!" than I understand, when I realise the lamp behind John's head is still working !– John has been faster – much faster!  
  
"Could have thought about that...", I mutter.  
  
"Glad I noticed in time. I won't tell anyone...", John promises still a bit uneasy.

  
  
_(So they will have to wait for the LFB, discuss what damage the water might cause to the building. John calms Sherlock down because this won't take as long as if there would be a tide..._  
...  
_Then Sherlock sees the lamp behind John start to flicker and then there is a hissing noise, a cluck – and the lights go out.)_

  
  
"That was close! Maybe nothing would have happened at last, but as well you could have saved my life – once more. Thank you, John...", Sherlock humbly concedes.

„Not at all!

Since when you say thank you?"

 

Yes, he is right. I'm almost every time ungrateful and rude and the few occasions I say thank you it's mostly sarcasm.

I have to stop that!

 

"It's okay. I tend to forget that myself sometimes. You easily forget because of military habits I guess...

Oh, and one more observation. You weren't the only distracted person in that room today."

"Hm? Why?" he already amazes me again, but this time I have no clue what he means.

"Well, obviosly Mycroft has dropped by. Forgot his umbrella. Did you tease him that much?"

 

I only hear him talk like trough a heavy fog and went frozen with shock.

 

"Oh, god!" I gasp: "GREG! Greg is still somewhere down there!"

While I get on my knees on my chair and try to spot any details in the water of our superfluous indoor paddling pool, I notice from the corner of my eye John wincing in shock.

"What?! Sherlock?! What do you mean?!" he gasps stunned. "What happened to Lestrade?!"  


 

 

 

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * (He refers to the sitcom "Home Improvement" with Tim Allen.
> 
> In the German synchro it's "Hör mal, wer da hämmert" and Tim calls himself “der Heimwerker-König” = "The home improvement king".)
> 
> ********************************************
> 
> Thank you for reading so far, I'll try to post the rest later that week!
> 
>  
> 
> Sincerely yours!
> 
> Nothing


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

"Oh, god!" I gasp: "GREG! Greg is still somewhere down there!"

While I get on my knees on my chair and try to spot any details in the water of our superfluous indoor paddling pool, I notice from the corner of my eye John wincing in shock.

"What?! Sherlock?! What do you mean?!" he gasps stunned. "What happened to Lestrade?!"

"Lestrade? Why Lestrade…?"

What could have brought him to Lestrade?!

"You said he's somewhere in here!?"

"Not Lestrade! Mycroft dropped by right after lunchtime giving his dull goldfish into kennel...I set it on the floor, ‘cause I needed the space for my tea..."

John looks completely taken aback, then: "Oh, it's a double feature! Free Willy followed by Find Nemo!" he chuckles.

Oh, no! Now he's out of his mind! It has been all too much for him during the last weeks..., months...! Hardly surprising he cracks up.

(The next one is untranslatable to English. We have the idiom: "that's the drop that makes the barrel overflowing (English: "the (last) straw that broke the camel's back".)

That was the last drop that makes the barrel overflowing his little upper storey!

(This is on one side referring to SIGN: Holmes calls his brain "attic" as you might know.

But in German we have the expression "Oberstübchen" (little room under the roof for a (weak, almost crazy) brain. (It's a bit outmoded, but careful - it might sound cute with its diminutive but even "Oberstübchen" without any further addition is really insulting.)

 

NOT. FUNNY!  
  
„John?! Are you alright?!“

His facial expression already starts to change even before I opened my mouth. From surprise it alters to a compassionate smile, then an amused smirk, finally broaden to a grin.

And I still don't know what that means!

  
„Of course I am!

Don't worry, Sherlock! Nemo is a clownfish in an animated cartoon and Will an orca in a movie – and yes, I know: Whales are no fish!"

 

I'm glad he is okay!

But yet how many space did he waste by storing such junk memories!

I roll my eyes what isn`t anything else than exchanging a look with my brain, a short, silent complaint about the rest of mankind I can't share with anyone else.  
  
„That's not funny, John! If Mycroft would notice I tried to slip him another fish than the one he lumbered me with – and even you know he certainly would! – he would have another prove for my inferiority that allows him to pick on me!" 

 

Useless!

John doesn't understand that.

There is again that worried frown...

(Original: "Da sind schon wieder diese Dackelfalten auf seiner Stirn…" Dackelfalten = Dachshund wrinkles - an intense (and somewhat cute) frown. A bit like a sad looking puppy. You use it for example when someone worries without much reason – or without doing anything about the reason. It's often (a bit ore more) mockingly,)

"Sherlock…, I admit I wouldn't prefer to have Mycroft as elder brother either, but... I think that he means it well with you... He isn't able to show it...  
Okay: We have a case of a missing person!

**Let's knuckle down! Find it! It can't have gone through the loo already, the water isn't high enough...", he is pondering. "Can you reach your violin?"**

"You mean I could fiddle for it?!"  
"Very funny! ...wait, not necessary..."

He lifts his hands, puts his watch off and lowers it towards the water until the buckle touches the surface. Nothing happens.

"Well, let's switch off the other fuses too first and then look for the fish", he decides and climbs down his chair into the frosty sludge. "Maybe it wasn't that useless, Mrs Hudson cleaned up...

Where is the food?"

"Oh! Of course you must be starving, sorry – " I try to be sympathetic.

"No! Well, right, but I mean: The food for the fish! Hope you forgot to feed him in the meantime, then it won't deny the offer.

Did Mycroft really name it Greg?! Does he know another one?"

"Kitchen table...and: yes, and: I don't know...", I answer perplexed.

Now I realise why Mycroft got so nervous when the name finally slipped... It's actually about Lestrade! ...or maybe yet another Greg I should not know about...?

Anyway! John is right! I am a detective! So I should be capable finding a fish in such a small area!

 

"You are brilliant today! Will that last?"

John suggestively puts his hands onto his hips. Not so insolent! his look seems to say.

"You! Look for that aquarium!" he commands.

"So much for aquarium! It's an old fashioned, much too small golf fish bowl!"

"Poor Greg! Does Mycroft think, that's funny?"

 

I had put it down between my chair and the wall near the fireplace and showed it to John. It might have had about 5 or 6 litres of volume and apart from being full of water by now there was only a hand full of white gravel on its ground.

 

"Your brother should be prosecuted for animal cruelty!" he declared. "It would be okay for small succulents at least!" Then he wades towards the kitchen.

"You see, he only has it for a few days, then some sort of crisis occurred and now he had to go to some kind of summit for the weekend or longer..."

  
Wait?! Why do I apologize Mycroft?!

 

"Might be! But couldn't he delegate that? To get a proper tank and that...fish-sitting?

"Listen! Only a few thoroughly checked security agents even know where he resides. Me too, of course. Mycroft doesn't just hire some sort of home sitter to clear the letterbox, move the curtains and water the cactus! And he certainly doesn't want anyone to know he has a gold fish!"

John stops dead on browsing and looks at me. I can't tell what his expression actually wants to tell me.

"Oh, that's cute! But he confides it to you? What do you think does that mean, Sherlock?"   
„Gold fish just don't suit him. Something unpleasant but seemingly harmless, that suddenly snaps. A chameleon perhaps, because of its quick, deadly tongue!"

"You can think about that later..."

"Tell me, what are you actually looking for?" I snap.

"That blue plastic pasta strainer...", John complains impatient.

"Say something! Chemical accident. Take the steal one."

"...too fine-meshed. The water might pour not fast enough...

Where is that impractical design fruit bowl?!"

"It is a SMALL gold fish. Its holes are much too big."

"Well..., here – but be quick!"

He hands me the strainer. (...)

„Okay, you ready?“   
„Yes, Captain!“

I watch him putting some food into the water between us – when we could already hear the siren of the LFB. Not much time left.

Look! I quickly put the strainer under the fish, John is right in front of me with the bowl, of which he poured out the third of water – and whoosh! – we have our prisoner.

"Gotcha! Poor guy, it certainly never had so much space!" John utters relieved but pitifully.

"What do you think about that? We quickly stop by Mrs Hudson and then buy a proper aquarium and another fish or two?"

"Then at least one of us has a place to live..." I sigh. "Maybe I have another idea, but now let's grab some stuff, that we can change our shoes and wet clothes."

 

Half an hour later we ring at Marie turner's door. At least she opens but still scowls at me.

 

"We'd like to talk to Mrs Hudson...at least for a moment", John asks carefully but confident. He is carrying our luggage and the food, me the bowl with Greg.

"If you two weirdos think, you can dwell here and drown my house too or burn it down, you're barking up the wrong tree!" she rants.

"Oh, no! No, Sherlock just would like to – "

 

Our Mrs Hudson appears and edges forward.

"Please, Mrs Hudson... I am terribly sorry...!" I helplessly declare.

John has put the case down and takes little Greg.

 

"Thanks – It was a blunder...! I just wanted to fix the leaking kitchen tub...Of course I will pay for everything and I am aware of the fact that some old pieces must be priceless memories for you... - I really hope we can save the carpet, and maybe we’ll just have to remove only lowest parts of the wallpaper and put – well…: I know a famous interior decorator – she owes me a favour –  –  I am so sorry...!" 

 

She almost attacks me with a hug. I didn't see that coming. Will I ever understand those human beings?!

"It's alright, my dear boy, sorry for shouting at you, of course you didn't it purposely!"

"Thank you so much, Mrs Hudson....", my voice almost breaks and I'm puzzled but also relieved and in spite of that still ashamed... (...)

She rubs my back, lets me go and pinches my cheek. In return I give a little peck on hers gratefully. I know she likes that.

  
„Marie…, but you can take the little fish for some days, can't you?" she begs.

"If needs must...", Mrs Turner grunts. "It won't get up nonsense: It has no hands!"

"And you both will surely find a nice hotel...", Mrs Hudson adds.

"I wanted to suggest, that we change here quite quickly, then go and buy a proper aquarium – a bowl is really bad for a gold fish! – and then return as soon as possible to...to save, what can be saved... Until then they may have pumped all the water outside the flat, I think...", John said.

"Yes, they promised to come over and give me some advice,  aubout what I can do to avoid water damage..."

"I can google it for you, Martha!"

„You are googling everything!“

"Oh, it would be fantastic, if you could look up the next pet shop – so we can be back soonish and make ourselves useful!" John intervenes quite quickly. He is really in top form today!

(That's what I thought of myself too only a few hours ago when I tried to explain the case to those idiots at the Yard...

Meanwhile I'm not so sure about that anymore...

 

The two women scrutinize us...our squishy shoes... and the visibly soaked legs of John's jeans...

So they at last let us in and we change quickly in the bathroom and leave the fish, food and luggage behind with the two women.

 

Mrs Hudson even wants to take care for our drenched stuff – Mrs Turner of course comments that behaviour with a roll of her eyes and a headshake.

I guess that means: Martha is unteachable!  
  
  
  
  
  
tbc


	5. Chapter 5

 

  
During the cab ride I'm calming down a little. My feet still are ice cold and suddenly I notice I'm terribly tired...  
And John had the early shift at the hospital and stayed even longer – surely an emergency operation...  
"How are you feeling? Everything alright?"  
"Feeling cold, um?" he asks instead of answering my question.  
"And you must have been almost freezing to death last night in the hallway. I'm so sorry..."  
"It's alright..."  
"Your bedroom must have been a much more horrible sight then this one right now, um?" I presume with remorse.  
"What? No! No that was worse! That one right now – Sherlock, that's our living room!  
…okay..., your ...living room...", he adds nearly whispering.  
"It has always been our living room, John", I hear myself affirming.  
  
Yes, always! Even during the two weeks when...your chair didn't stand beside the fire place – sorry! Always...!

"What do you think we can do, when we are back...?" I ask somewhat anxious.  
"Not sure...", he admits. "There are dehumidifiers we could put on (...) and...turn on the heating and air the flat more often, ...wipe the surfaces of course... and there are kind of vacuum cleaners for water to dry carpets and padded furniture...  
Then we'll have to wait and see. Don't worry too much now.  
  
But...I can't forget about your experiment with the fire! That was bloody dangerous!" he adds after a short silence.  
"But it just made sense to use your bedroom, okay? The conditions were almost perfect! I just couldn't let that occasion pass! The measures of the room, the materials of the bed and everything! And the two upper floors already needed a renovation – and you know the roof is leaking!" I insisted.  
"Sherlock, I'm not referring to the damage that you did to the building! I mean you!" John hisses aggressively. "Even just the carbon monoxide poisoning could have killed you!"

  
Immediately the memory returns: That silly bonfire that almost turned into a stake for my friend. "A little bit smoked" had been an understatement par excellence: The smoke inhalation could have been deadly...

"I had several fire extinguishers at hand and I borrowed the whole equipment of a fire fighter. He owed me a favour..."

  
There is a little twitch in the corner of his mouth. "Good. Good to hear you take care of yourself...", he utters in a low voice.  
  
I have to, when you are not around, I think – but I don't say that out loud.

  
"You'll be not on duty tomorrow, will you?"  
"No, I'm free that weekend."  
"And why do you know that much about gold fish?"  
"In fact I don't. When Harry and me...I must have been about eight I think. A stingy aunt gave each of us a gold fish. She also brought along an old gold fish bowl. I hadn't the faintest knowledge of fishkeeping I just had the feeling that won't be enough space for the two animals. When I asked my aunt what to feed, she had no idea. I phoned a classmate of mine – I knew they had an aquarium at home. That's all. Gold fish are very easy to keep – but they need at least 20 litres per just one fish – and they live in groups. And Greg will grow to about nearly one foot length..."  
"I see. How long did they live? Your pets?"  
"I don't know. We were not allowed to keep them. My mother didn't want to have a tank with 60 or more litres of water and with electric equipment inside in the house. And it was too expensive."  
  
How much could that even cost?!  
  
"Would you like to have a gold fish – ore a...group of?"  
"Me? No, it's quite boring. Watching the flames in the fire place is also contemplative..."  
  
When we reach the pet shop John rushes through the ground floor and I follow him, we pass many small cages filled with hamsters, Guinea pigs, rabbits an several kind of mice, rats...  
An elongated furry silver grey animal with long canines, dark button like eyes and a pink nose catches my attention.  
"This one looks much more like Lestrade – Is this a ferret?"  
"I think so, but now tear yourself away, we really can't buy anything for Mycroft that needs more effort than some gold fish!"  
  
Blithely he grabs my wrist and drags me to the elevators. On the first floor he heads immediately towards the department for fishkeeping.  
  
After a short welcome, John introduces the young lady (who finds him very attractive of course!) to our little problem. Well, not exactly our problem but a mix of our situation now and his, when he was a child.  
"Well, look..., my brother-in-law gave our nephew a gold fish. Still small at the moment – but just in a bowl? That's impossible. Well he should have discussed it with the parents of course and they already thought about taking it to the shelter but Mikie is so fond of it already and absolutely wants to keep it. That's why we are here: to buy an aquarium for beginners and maybe one or two animals.”

(...)  
  
While they chat and consider which tank and what fish to choose I'm looking around for myself and take several items for little Mikie's tank: A small skull with a snake coming out of one eyehole and the wreck of a nice little pirate ship, an opened treasure chest filled with gold doubloons and a bright coloured book entitled "My first gold fish". There are two drawings on the cover: The bigger one shows three cheerfully smiling gold fish in a square tank, the smaller one a very lonely fish in a small bowl. It looks so desperate as if it is just about to jump out of the water to suffocate itself.

It doesn't John take long to make his decisions. He has taken two different kind of goldfish and a 120 litre aquarium. (120 litre might seem a lot at first but most bath tubs are bigger than that). He is buying some sand and a few plants either.

"Mikie can collect some pebbles himself, we won’t carry them along either", he utters and glances back at me with a somewhat evil grin. Then he notices the things I carry in my arms and starts to giggle.

I love this so much! See him chuckling like that, really cheerful and pure!

It always reminds me of that precious, little moment after the cab hunt...

So much went wrong since then. And that didn't all depend on Moriarty...

 

  
We'll have much work to do this night. It still makes me feel sick when I remember what I have done to Mrs Hudson's house and everything. But I also notice that I'm secretly overjoyed that John will be there to help.

 

Oh, God! It's incredible how selfish I am!

He mostly will for Mrs Hudson’s sake!

  
#########################  
  
  
_(Sorry, I will give you just a summary of chapter 6, it's not that important._

  
_They return. Mrs Turner’s boys who want to help their neighbours either are taking care of the fish first. Sherlock isn't happy that there are so many people around, but he knows that's wrong and that he should be grateful for their help. He is afraid of Mrs Hudson’s reaction and he feels sick for it's all his fault. When they are about to enter the living room John gives Sherlock a kind of menacing look. When Mrs Hudson sees the living room she bursts into tears and Sherlock hugs her helplessly._  
_Mrs Turner has got help from three grown up children of a couple of friends of hers, while the ladies are downstairs, occupied with drying Mrs Hudson’s flat. The young people have organised equipment to get the flat dry. They are in their early twenties. All in a good mood and joke a lot and Sherlock feels so old. He remembers that in exactly 5 weeks he will be FORTY...!_

_John and Mrs Turner keep talking about what to do and that everything will soon be okay again._

_When John hands over the violin to Sherlock there is a short moment, when Sherlock thinks John holds it like one would carry a new born child – but he doesn't say or even think anything about how John might have lost his little family but he feels very sorry for him. John would have deserved much better...!_

_They start to tie up the flat. But after about an hour of work when Sherlock takes things from the shelves and out of the cupboards a sudden and terrible pain hits his right arm. When he pulls his hand back it is over and over covered with blood. There is al long and partly deep cut in his arm! – He had forgotten he kept an old razor of a murderous gentlemen's hairdresser in there. Of course John takes care of the wound, but for Sherlock the work is over - not only because of the open wound but also because he has a shock. John also makes a remark that he could probably blog about that case of The Barber of Savile Road. Sherlock hardly can't believe that John will be his blogger again.  
_

 

_Meanwhile Mrs Holmes tried to phone her son and then called Mrs Hudson on her mobile because the landline seemed not to work. They decide that John will drive Sherlock and Mrs H. to the Holmes' home and stay there overnight._

_Sherlock has to remember that strange horrible Christmas party, when he had invited the Watsons and Wiggins – he is much more looking forward to that visit._


	6. Chapter 6

 

  
  
John insists that Mrs Hudson sits in the back of the car with me. So she could alarm him just in case I would feel worse. I'm a bit dizzy and nauseous indeed, maybe I have a little shock. But I pull myself together.   
John drives us through the night...to my parent's...that's weird...seems so...unreal...  
  
Of course we get a cordial welcome and mummy looks so scared when she sees my with my wrapped arm in spite she had been prepared and had been told it wasn't that serious. I can hardly avoid to roll my eyes.  
Parents! They make you nervous and unsecure every time!  
Meet them – and it will shake you to your very foundations.  
That's how they work.  
Mothers especially.  
See your father or even talk to him on the phone - immediately you are twelve again.  
That's not that bad.  
But with mummy you are at least nine.   
At the very most!  
  
They are blabbing about renovation but I don’t listen. Why do they always lead those boring conversations about unimportant stuff?  
  
But when John brought me to my old room I suddenly understand.  
There is the double bed from the guest room because they are renovating the guest room and thea also discarded my old bed...    
   
Oh…!  
  
"John, I can take the sofa - you stay here...", I suggest a little embarrassed.  
 "Bollocks!" John replies a bit harshly. "And it will be more reassuring to stay with you – because of that injury I mean... Promise to wake me up in case you need something, will you?"  
"To reassure you, of course I will..."  
"Right. Good. Sit down, let me help you..."  
  
The slightest movement of my hand causes me pain. So I really need his assistance – even it's embarrassing. He puts my shoes off and helps me out of my coat, Jacket and the trousers. That has to be enough. Not only because I am a bit ashamed but also exhausted.  
John vanishes into the bathroom. In the meantime mummy turns up with a pot of tea, a belated supper and a pyjama and wants to help me getting undressed but I just pull the blanked over my head.  
"My little pig head...", I hear her voice. "Be nice to John, alright? Don't mess it up..."  
    
About an hour later we turn the light off. It's after midnight by now.  John had been hungry of course and he asked me to eat something either. I did, just to be kind.  But to be honest that hot soup did me well.  
During our Dinner John watched around in my old room, smiled about some of the books and toys on the shelves and of course about the Jolly Roger which I pinned on the wall again when I was a teenager – just to be a little rebellious.   
But mostly his eyes were on me.   
Am I such a worrying sight?  
   
"Good night, Sherlock...", he mumbles into the darkness.  
  
I just can't – I have to ask him.  
"John...?"  
 "Need some painkillers..?"  
 "No..., no...it's just...you said you will be blogging again...about us...?  
...and...have you been serious? Thinking about a job change...?"  
"'course I am. But I would continue my work at the hospital until the fist of January. Christmas and New Year’s Eve are usually very busy. I promised to be on duty...many colleagues have...family..."

  
A warm and painful well of empathy surges inside me.  


"I know..." my voice is shaking a bit and even I feel very unsecure I turn over to touch John's shoulder. "But...you have Mrs Hudson...and me...I mean...that's better than nothing, isn't it...?"  
   
Shit! What do I say? Oh, shut up!  
This is so much less than what he wanted...than what he deserves...  
   
"I'm so sorry... sorry, it...didn't...really work...I wish, i could – "  
I break up and shake my head. It's completely useless to say anything like that.

"Thank you for being around...  
If I can do anything...  
we could change the rooms if you like. I should have offered you the bedroom on the first floor right at the beginning...

I mean

When it is dry again…"  
"We'll see, Sherlock...", he mumbles almost sleepy.  
"Yes you're right, we don't have to decide it right now. Sleep well, John...", I say politely and turn over on my back on my side of the bed.  
I am terribly tired – but also in a complete turmoil. I won't be able to sleep.   
Why can't I be more relaxed?  
He is with me again...!  
  
But then I hear the sound of the lamp switch and see the light shining red through my eyelids.  
"There is...still one thing...", he starts awkwardly. "I can tell you're still wide awake, Sherlock, your breath is too fast.  
There is still one question you have to answer me."  
  
Oh, no...! I think.   
  
I don't want to answer any questions about… AGRA...or the baby...or about all the lies and intrigues and all that disgusting stuff...  
I'm almost already saying: "Please don't! Not now...!"  
He takes a deep breath.  
"Sherlock..."    
  
What?! Oh, no! Don't ask, what I really wanted to say at the tarmac...! I'm yelling inside and catch my breath.

  
"You finally have to tell me how you did it!"  
  
 It's as if an electric shock has hit me.  
  
"What do you mean?" I ask sheepishly to bide my time.   
"You know exactly what I mean: How did you really survive? Your...suicide...?"  
He still can hardly get it out. His hesitating voice starts shaking.   
My poor friend...!   
"But you already know!" I claim stubbornly and very impatiently.   
„Mycroft, Molly and two dozens of tramps with a huge lilo?! Don't be silly! It wouldn't have worked! I am not that stupid!"

  
I am frozen with fear.  
   
"But that's how we did it! Would I lie to you? I had to save you!" I insist and try to sound offended.  
  
Please! Don't ask! Please, please, don't ask! I beg in my thoughts.   
If I would lie to him?!  
When have I ever been honest to him?!

  
"And now switch the light off, I'm tired!" I grunt.   
   
He sighs and a moment later he turns the light off.   
I feel queasy and I almost could cry...   
  
About two breaths later I hear a soft scroop beside me...and then I feel John's hands clasping gently my arm.   
"It just doesn't make sense, you know...?" he insists in a low but firm voice.  
"Not to mention the fact that it doesn't look like Moriarty to kill himself.  
Why would a successful narcissist commit suicide? He would have gotten away with everything! He thought he was absolutely unbeatable and unsurpassable!

Unfortunately not without good reason – I have to admit...  
But okay…, let's say he shoots himself, because when...when you're no longer around, there would be nobody left who really estimates his ingenuity...that would be somehow comprehensible...  
Okay, but there must have been at least one sniper targeting me. Who had been quite close when you...when you jumped. Maybe more than one! So many windows around that place, there are shops, there were parked cars... (...) somebody must have been in the ambulance station...  
Even in case you really could have closed the place off. You would have to evacuate all the surrounding buildings. Moriarty's people would have noticed that!"  
He takes a deep breath.  
"Even a little idiot like me sees that that's bullshit, Sherlock!!  
If Moriarty had wanted you to kill yourself, he would have made sure, you can't betray him! Even after his death there would have been men to check that you – are – actually – ...dead...!"  
At the word "dead" his voice breaks into a high pitches as it did in Baskerville, when he talked to me on his phone – and immediately I feel guiltier.  
“...so, what you've told me all the time can't be the truth. You couldn't risk that they find out you are still alive - and they surely would have sooner or later! Somebody would have noticed – somebody from some angle or through a hacked CCTV-camera!  
But you didn't. You MUST have seen that, you'd never made this mistake!  
No..., you'd have rather...sacrificed your life...  
...as we both almost did at the pool before he got that phone call... You looked at me and it would have been okay for me. It seemed to be necessary.  
You have to be honest now, Sherlock!"  
"Please, John...", My voice breaks.  
I can't tell him!

"If you trust in me..."  
There is a pain in my chest – as if my heart wants to stop again. I try hard not to show my despair –   
  
Don't be silly! ...he already knows...!   
   
Softly he squeezes my arm. "You know I trust you...  
easy, Sherlock..., don't worry.  
So I'm right, my poor friend...  
Of course I don't understand every little detail.  
But Moriarty was consulting Magnussen too, didn't he? Newspapers! That's the common thread – newspapers and the destructive power they can have..."Make believe!" It was written on the wall – It wasn't Kitty's house – It was Brook's! “Make believe” is no motto for a journalist – It's the storyteller's!  
You told me Kitty asked you to sign her shirt. Magnussen told me to put on a t-shirt that I don't understand...and Mary told me something in that style too! They all got that from Moriarty! That's alike him!  
It's still not over by now...he is still behind all of this in a certain way...  
...and somehow...  
Not only Magnussen had Mycroft under his thumb, right?  
So...even if it seems...improbable. The only possible solution is: You didn’t fool Moriarty. Moriarty WANTED you to fake your death.   
We thought he wanted to ruin your reputation, to destroy you, see you suffer..., slowly and painful. But you would have known you're innocent.  
It wasn't cruel enough!" John whispers with a shaky voice.  
"He wanted you alive, as a puppet on a string, as a weapon in his hands...!  
If you had really killed yourself to escape him and to save your innocence he would have killed us! You had to work as his tool, as his slave... he wanted you to get guilty, to get your hands dirty – he made you leave the side of the angels.  
He wanted to ruin your soul, to hand it over to the devil...And of course he wanted you to kill Magnussen. He used you – again. You didn't want to execute him for Moriarty – but he forced you to do it.   
  
Oh, god, he knows...! I'm devastated.  
John tries to fight back his tears and I helplessly cover his hands with mine.    
"Sherlock...  
whatever he made you doing...  
you are not guilty!  
You... don't need to tell me. But do if you want to, I won't blame you! ...won't judge you...  
It was him all the time!   
  
Just...  
just one...  
That phone call...that someone shot Mrs Hudson...  
was that him too? Or...did you want me..."  
„Moriarty….  
I considered to tell you...but then...  
I didn't...hoping that would keep you save..."  
„Okay…!“ John gasps.  
"I doubt I really can be useful in that...war...", he sighs exhausted. "But you are not alone anymore. I won’t leave, none will distract me or entice me away. I won't go. Never again. No way.  
I'm there, Sherlock.”   
  
Hot tears trickle down my temples.  
On one side I'm incredibly relieved… –   
but that's nonsense!

Complete, absolute, total nonsense!  
   
John is even more in danger than he ever was before!   
...John, my parents, Mrs Hudson..., Molly... Lestrade...   
And Mycroft of course – but that was his own decision long time ago, and he is surrounded by lots of security.

He’s like a turtle.

…a snapping turtle.

...old reptile!

And of course he is a far too precious piece on the chessboard to sacrifice him...  
  
...but John...  
  
I won't be able to protect him…!  
  
...maybe if I really kill myself this time. Then John would be...useless.  
But I have a task...a mission to fulfil.  
A mission that’s much bigger than all of us.  
   
I have to stop him, stop his plan.  
At all costs.   
   
   
   
   
   
   
THE END

**Author's Note:**

> That's only the prologue it 'll get worse, sorry!


End file.
